Chapter 11: Elliot - The Foster Child

The Christmas card has been on my mind all day. It must be a sick joke, I tell myself, but who would send it and why? I have started to worry that whoever it is might send another one and this time Cora will open it. The words keep going over and over in my head.

This will be your last Christmas.

Who would send such a thing? I’ve had no arguments with anyone around here. And Cora isn’t the sort to fall out with anyone either. It’s crazy. It doesn’t make sense. I know I should tell Cora about it but I don’t want to worry her.

I check the post box as soon as I get home and am relieved to find it empty. Although, of course, Cora could have already collected the post, she gets home earlier than me.

Loops of anxiety circle my stomach as I park the car in the garage and go through the connecting door into the kitchen. Cora is sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. She’s upset. Damn, is it another card?

‘Are you okay, love?’ I ask gently, putting my arms around her, trying to still the pounding of my heart.

She looks up at me, her eyes red from crying. ‘There’s been an incident at school…’

I’m relieved that it isn’t another card but I’m bothered that Cora is so upset. ‘Tell me about it.’

I hold her close as, in a faltering voice, she tells me how a young girl, called Tilly, was playing up when Cora was on the phone to one of the governors. When Cora finally got her to sit down she kept rocking on her chair. ‘I went over to stop her but she lost her balance and fell off. Her mother took her to the hospital. She’s got a sprained ankle.’

‘This is awful but I don’t see how any of it is your fault, Cora.’

She sniffs. ‘I was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, but the call was important and Tilly is normally such a sweet kid. I don’t know what got into her.’ She wipes her eyes. ‘She’s got to have a couple of days off school. Her parents are furious. And so is Mrs Stirling.’

‘Look, it’s horrible that Tilly was hurt but thankfully it’s only a sprain. And you can’t blame yourself, Cora. Kids play up sometimes, accidents happen, and you were on the phone, doing the job you’re paid for.’ I kiss her. ‘Anyway aren’t the Taylor-Browns the people Violet works for? I’m sure Violet will come to your defence. She seems very fond of you.’

‘I forgot about that. They helped her get a flat and she looks after Tilly sometimes.’ Cora relaxes a little. ‘I hope you’re right.’

‘It will all blow over, love. Now why don’t you go and have a long soak in the bath while I fix dinner?’

She smiles wanly. ‘I will. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ We share a long kiss, and Cora goes up for her bath while I turn the oven on, take the salmon out of the freezer. We’d agreed this morning to have the salmon with new potatoes and broccoli for dinner and we both like our salmon oven baked.

My mind goes back to the Christmas card as I prepare the potatoes and put them on to boil. It was hand-delivered on Friday. So, by someone in the village surely. Who and why?

I’ve been living here for eight years and nothing. Never a bit of trouble. What’s changed? Why after all these uneventful years has someone sent me such an awful Christmas card? What are they planning? It sounds like a death threat but surely it’s a hoax.

A memory flashes of hearing a creaking sound when I was out in the garden on Sunday. I’d thought it was the cat that had suddenly appeared. But could someone have been in the garden, the same person who sent the Christmas card?

What if it isn’t a hoax and we’re both in danger?